


shaky hands and nervous love

by kagako



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, M/M, Overstimulation, if u squint...., thank you sheith for my life, they are both very nervous and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9238370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagako/pseuds/kagako
Summary: “I’ve loved you from the beginning,” Keith tells him, ignoring the heat blooming on his face in favor of grazing his thumbs against Shiro’s cheeks.Shiro hums, tilts his head as he shifts his hips, pressing inward, just to hear the exhale of Keith’s breath. “H—How’d you learn to be so cheesy, Keith?”





	

**Author's Note:**

> GOSH HELLO!!! this is my first sheith fic, I wanted to get this done before xmas but I guess I should be happy I finally got it done...
> 
> I dont really have anything else to say besides i didnt intend for all that emotion in the sex, and also i didnt mean for it to be this long this was supposed to be a fluffy first time fic of about 2.5k but somehow its almost 4.5k long and well.
> 
> anyways, please enjoy!

“Hey,” Keith says, a feathery fondness in his voice. He struggles half-heartedly against Shiro, squirming and shimmying, nimble fingers drumming against broad shoulders as their chests work against each other’s. “Shiro,” he tries again, willing himself to be a little more forceful, but he’s biting the insides of his cheeks to cage in a giggle.

_A giggle._

The absurdity of it amazes him, and that’s how Keith knows he’s about to lose the battle. He wonders who will win the war.

“C-Come on, look at me,” Keith presses onward, tears dotting the corners of his eyes. The floppy tuff of white hair tickles at his neck, under his ear—and the constant press of lips against the crook of his neck doesn’t help Keith. At all. He tightens his legs around Shiro’s waist as if it’ll help, but it only seems to urge the man on more. “Shiro, you’re about to m-make me giggle and I swear—I swear if I giggle, I’ll honestly _kill you—“_

“Why’s that?” Shiro asks against a quickening pulse. He pulls Keith closer, wrapping his arms securely around the other’s middle.

“The pilot of the—the red lion, hot headed and prone to hardassness, doesn’t _giggle_ —“

“Really?” Shiro mumbles, genuinely curious. Keith can feel the pout against his neck and he has to clench his teeth to contain the on-coming fit of giggles when Shiro begins to nuzzle his neck. He doesn’t so much mind the barks of laughter—but giggling, _no,_ no can do, no thanks, maybe when he’s dead and buried six f—

Keith’s defenses slip at the kiss Shiro gives him, just under his ear, and he lets out a giggle, or three.

(“Four giggles— _four_ ,” Shiro would tell him later, all smug smile and eyes full of mischief. “I was counting.”)

It sparks a triumphant laugh on Shiro’s end, but the man doesn’t extract himself from the safety of the crook of Keith’s neck.

“Sh—Shiro—“ Keith grits out. He drums his fingers against the back of Shiro’s head. “Look at me.”

“Must I?” he asks, and if he hadn’t been talking into Keith’s ear, Keith would have missed the wariness in the question.

A quick second passes as Keith thinks, _he’s so nervous._ He can feel heat from Shiro’s face seep into his skin, but Keith knows that his cheeks are just as flushed, if not more. From the tips of his ears and down to his chest—the heat isn’t suffocating but Keith still feels as though he could drown in it. The gentle smile that tugs at his lips is still an unfamiliar feeling, but he welcomes it as he shifts against Shiro, bringing his hands to cup as much of the man’s face in his hands as he can.

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs, his voice so tender that it leaves him surprised.

The huff against his neck is Keith’s sign of victory.

Shiro extracts himself carefully, lips set in an uneasy line as he directs his gaze anywhere but at Keith’s face.

“No, no,” Keith says hotly, furrowing his brows. He tilts Shiro’s face upward, grazing his thumbs against the corners of his lips, and Keith finds out that he can’t help but think that this man is absolutely adorable. “Look at me.”

Shiro wants to rolls his eyes (teasingly, of course, perhaps with a dramatic sigh which he knows will encourage Keith to roll his own eyes as well) but decides against it. He guides his hands along Keith’s waist and settles his palms against the other’s hipbones before finally lifting his gaze—and _god,_ Keith looks as eager and anxious as he feels. Shiro can see his reflection in the dilated pupils of Keith’s eyes, they’re so wide and intense that Shiro has to take a moment to even his breathing when he finds a fire hidden there.

Keith looks beautiful with honest eyes and flushed cheeks, with his neck spotted with Shiro’s love bites and blooming purple shadings that Keith will flush at when he looks in the mirror later on. He’d have a hard time believing that Keith was calm if not for the way his fingers tremble against his cheeks, if not for the way his chest shakes with each exhale. “Well?” Shiro finally prompts, tilting his head snug into Keith’s right palm. He watches as Keith falters, all the while thinking, _he’s nervous._

“What?”

“You told me to look at you,” Shiro points out, and it’s then that he expects Keith to roll his eyes, and maybe pinch his cheeks because _how’d you learn to be such a smartass, Takashi Shirogane?_ and Shiro would respond, _maybe I’ve been spending too much time with you, Keith._ Instead, he watches as Keith leans forward, connecting their foreheads. Their heat mingles, but it’s easy for the both of them to breathe—comfortable, slowly, the heat a welcomed sensation that only intensifies the moment.

“Yeah,” Keith mumbles. He lets his hands travel downward, sliding against Shiro’s neck and then his shoulders—down to his elbows until Keith’s able to pry Shiro’s hands from his hips only to entwine their fingers. With both their heads bowed, the evidence of their arousal is clear to the both of them, but there’s something so tender about the moment that neither of them want to break.

It’s only until Keith shifts his hips just enough, causing Shiro to unsuccessfully bite back a groan. It ignites a rumble in Keith’s chest and Shiro huffs at him with no ill intent.

“You’re nervous,” Keith says, as if it hadn’t been obvious enough. He tightens his grip on Shiro’s hands, rubs his thumb along warmth, from both his biological hand and his prosthetic. Keith wants to scoot closer, bury his neck in the crook of Shiro’s neck and return the soft kisses he received so earnestly—but then he remembers how painfully hard he is and decides against it, wonders just how much Shiro is feeling it, too.

“I am,” Shiro admits, returning the squeeze—thinking, for just a moment, that he wants to hide against Keith’s skin again. It feels strange to be uncertain and flushed in the face to the tips of his ears; the feeling isn’t unwelcomed but it still makes Shiro wary. He wants to touch and give; he wants to accept what Keith so sincerely _wants_ to give him.

He supposes that that’s what love is, but as Keith’s soft laughter fills his ears and forms fuchsia music notes in his mind—Shiro _knows._

“Me too,” Keith tells him, all honesty and open heart. It’s then that Keith shifts his face, placing a chaste kiss against Shiro’s lips. He wiggles closer, tries to ignore the throb of _wantwantwant_ as he takes back his hands in favor of placing them against Shiro’s neck, fingertips teasing the short hairs there. Keith kisses him again, pliant and slow as if he were sorting through the layers of Shiro’s heart, and the man in question thinks that’s exactly what Keith is doing.

Shiro kisses back just as earnestly, heart racing in his chest and he’s already breathless, the burn is in his lungs but he really doesn’t want to pull away, not with the soft sighs Keith’s emitting, the small hums that sound from within his chest and reverberate throughout the kiss. His hands are placed against the small of Keith’s back, fingers tracing circles and little hearts—aimlessly, Shiro wonders if he can tell between the two of them as he swipes his tongue against Keith’s bottom lip.

Keith smiles into their kiss, quite like an answer.

When Keith pulls back, his cheeks are so flushed that it’s almost humorous to Shiro—but instead of laughing, he gives Keith a gentle smile, tracing three more hearts underneath the hem of his shirt. Keith huffs and rolls his hips, wiggles closer and he tries not to laugh (honestly, he does) when Shiro’s tracings come to an abrupt halt mid-heart.

“Completely unfair,” Shiro manages through a clenched jaw, and it only fuels a hearty bark of laughter from Keith. He opens his mouth to say something else—a _let me kiss you again, Keith,_ or maybe a _your laugh really is the best—_ but he’s cut off by Keith’s hands at his shoulders, pushing him backwards into soft blankets and pillows that could use a fluffing. “Keith?” makes its way out instead.

“Watch me,” Keith demands, and the look in his eyes is so intense, so _determined_ that all Shiro can do is nod, a murmur of _“I’ll watch,”_ slipping past his lips.

He moves down the length of Shiro’s body, trailing his hands along the rise and fall of Shiro’s chest, guiding them to the man’s sides. Keith can feel Shiro’s eyes on him, seemingly burning a hole on the top of his head, and it makes the tips of his ears turn an embarrassing shade of pink—but then Keith’s remembering that he asked to be watched. He mentally shakes himself, tries to swallow past the lump of shyness in his throat, opting for hooking his fingers into the worn belt loops of Shiro’s pants.

Keith tugs at the loops gently, fighting a laugh when Shiro huffs at him from above. He can feel the tension, rolling off of Shiro’s body like steady ocean waves, but seeing Shiro so unraveled, eyes filled with want and a hint of impatience, is something Keith just can’t resist.

So naturally, he takes his time.

He hovers his (shaky) hands above the belt buckle, eyes dancing up the span of Shiro’s body until their eyes meet. Keith doesn’t miss the way the other clenches and unclenches his fists, or the way he licks his lips. Keith finds the other’s eyes brimming with anticipation, nervousness—but the underlying _wantwantwant_ is there.

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs, almost inaudible.

It’s then that Shiro wonders if it’s his own heartbeat in his ears or if somehow their hearts became one through the intimacy. He swallows a wanton sigh, whispers _“Keith”_ like it’s his last breath of air all the while thinking, _he hasn’t done a thing yet it’s already so—_

_“Shiro,”_ Keith breathes, pupils blown. He tears his gaze from the flush on Shiro’s cheeks, afraid that all he’ll do is stare and hover as his mind suddenly becomes vacant. Hurriedly, clumsily, Keith struggles with Shiro’s belt, and it’s almost embarrassing when there’s a light hearted chuckle from above until Keith daringly decides to mouth at the clothed bulge in front of him.

He’s rewarded with a gasp-turned-groan that seems to reverberate throughout Shiro’s entire body.

Keith glances upward, pulling away from his task only to curve his lips into a smirk, to which he receives a playful scowl in return as well as another whisper of _“completely unfair.”_ The laugh that escapes Keith’s lips effectively melts away the scowl on Shiro’s face. He doesn’t wait to see what Shiro’s expression morphs into next as he wills his hands steady, slender fingers still a bit shaky as he rids of Shiro’s belt and unfastens the zipper.

His mind becomes fuzzy and his heart pounds profusely as he glances upward as if asking for permission. Keith doesn’t expect the moonstruck expression on Shiro’s face—the wide eyes, the flushed cheeks and slightly opened mouth that emits shaky breaths. His fingertips graze at the elastic of Shiro’s underwear, hesitant and curious before the man in question gives a jerky, if not encouraging, nod.

Keith doesn’t mean to stare as he pulls back strained fabric, but it seemed inevitable to him that every part of Shiro would be beautiful. He curls his fingers around the base, testing the waters, twisting his wrist experimentally only to be rewarded with a muffled groan. There’s butterflies in his chest as he leans forward, glancing upward only for a moment before taking the head of Shiro’s dick into his mouth. The jerk of Shiro’s hips urges Keith on, giving him a newfound sense of confidence as he plunges forward and hollows his cheeks.

The sharp exhale he hears from above is enough for him. Keith swirls his tongue, sliding backwards until he’s able to focus on the tip of Shiro’s dick; his hand pumps carefully, deliberately slow as though to give Shiro as much pleasure as Keith is capable of giving.

_“Keith—“_

Keith groans in surprise upon hearing his name, causing the man beneath him to jerk at the stimulation. He trails his unoccupied hand along Shiro’s thigh, each shift and twitch of muscle seemingly sending sparks into Keith’s fingertips. Shiro’s shallow thrusts, the desperate little rolls of his hips—it ignites a fire in Keith’s chest, urging him forward. It gives him the confidence he needs to swallow past the embarrassment in favor of swallowing around Shiro’s dick—deeper and deeper until he can feel the dull pulse of the head against the back of his throat.

Shiro’s throaty groans and breathy moans of something that sounds suspiciously like Keith’s name does nothing to help Keith at all. He tries to hold back his own moans, afraid that the stimulation of vibrations to sensitive skin will be too much—but in the end, Keith gives in. He moans fully around Shiro’s dick, and he hadn’t known it was possible to grow harder in his jeans, but as waves of shivers course through Shiro’s body, Keith gets proven otherwise.

Keith’s mind is a blur as he rolls his hips, whining against Shiro’s dick at the lack of friction. It’s hot and uncomfortable in the confinements of his pants, but Keith knows there’s no way he’d allow himself to take his hands off of Shiro’s body. Mindlessly, Keith digs his fingernails into the tender flesh of Shiro’s thigh as he takes the other deeper only to slide backward until he’s able to focus solely on the tip once more. He circles his tongue around Shiro’s cock, laps at the slit gently, sucking him in teasingly with little to no force.

He has to swallow down the laugh that wants to bubble up from within his chest at the way Shiro rolls his hips upward, almost a bit too desperately. The pilot of the red lion never thought that (never even imagined) Shiro, black paladin—calm, collected, natural born leader—would have such a side to him.

Seeing Shiro so wound up, so ready to burst with flushed cheeks and a gleam of sweat at his forehead…perhaps Keith was not as shameless as he thought he ought to be to admit that he found the sight incredibly exciting. So exciting to the point that he was about to come in his pants as each of Shiro’s moans greeted his ears.

“Keith—“ Shiro grits out through clenched teeth. Keith glances upward just in time to witness glossy eyes fluttering, a shaky hand reaching downward to card through black locks of hair with a little tug. “Too much, Keith, too close—“

Keith moans against Shiro as he tries not to let the gravelly sound of Shiro’s voice push him over the edge. The grip on his hair tightens as Shiro’s hips roll and lift off from the bed. Keith is completely uncertain if his rhythm is still pleasurable, if his tongue teases and adds enough pressure for Shiro’s liking, or if his grip is too weak to too strong; but soon enough all of Keith’s thoughts dissipate into a string of _shiroshiroshiro_ as a vice-grip forms against his scalp, as he swallows around the dull pulsing of Shiro’s dick.

Shiro’s thighs are still twitching as Keith wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He squirms at his spot between Shiro’s legs, the heat and the coil in his stomach almost too much to bear. It’s only until Shiro murmurs his name, beckoning him forward with a small wave of his hand and a gentle smile that Keith suppresses his urge to grind against Shiro. He moves carefully, each brush of their bodies creating sparks and heat in his core; as he lays against Shiro, chest to chest, he wonders aimlessly how he managed it without coming on the spot.

“…still nervous?” Shiro mutters.

Keith hums, lips twitching upward in a smile as he feels Shiro’s fingertips slip into the waistband of his pants—and then there’s a soft laugh from Shiro as Keith tugs at the hem of his shirt. They rustle around for a moment, suppressing groans and shivers as their skin slowly becomes bare. Once their clothes are thrown carelessly onto the floor, Keith slowly settles himself atop Shiro once more, biting the insides of his cheeks as he trails his fingers along the scars on Shiro’s body.

Instead of answering, Keith asks, “are you?”

Shiro huffs a small laugh, gently tugging Keith forward so their chests are pressed firmly together. He kisses at Keith’s temple, trails a hand downward to Keith’s ass. Shiro’s movements are hesitant and unsure as he runs his hand along the curve of Keith’s lower back and onward. His current confidence level is close to five percent as he spreads Keith open, as he circles a finger around the rim—and it’s only until Keith moans into the crook of his neck and rolls his hips forward that his confidence level shoots up to eighty-two percent.

_“Shiro—“_

“Keith—Keith, grab the lu—“

Keith groans, limp against Shiro’s chest. _“_ I can’t _move,_ Shiro—“

“Under the pillow, Keith—“

The groan Keith lets out quickly turns into a laugh. He drags himself forward as he reaches under the pillow, deliberating rolling his hips against Shiro’s stomach as he does so. Keith says, “Takashi Shirogane, you were planning this all along?” just as Shiro’s gritting out, “You’re doing that on purpose, Keith.”

The space around them is filled with snorts of laughter as Keith shifts downward against Shiro once again—carefully now that the throb is persisting in the pit of his stomach. He’s hyperaware of everything Shiro is doing: to unclasping the lid, to warming it with his fingers, to the shaky prosthetic hand that settles against his hip. Keith tilts his head, grazing his nose against Shiro’s jawline. Faintly, he can still trace the lingering bits of laughter in Shiro’s eyes, but there’s enough nervousness settled there to cause him to speak up.

“You’re shaking,” Keith murmurs, as if he weren’t shaking himself.

Shiro snorts, bites the insides of his cheeks as if the action will cool the heat flooding his face. “So are you,” he says—and Shiro doesn’t expect to feel hearts against the skin of his shoulder, but he does. He looks over, watching with a flood of emotions stuck in his throat as Keith draws lazy hearts against his skin and his scars.

“It’s okay,” Keith says, all honesty and open heart—and Shiro believes him.

***

“Too much,” Keith groans as he buries his face in the crook of Shiro’s neck. He squirms against the man beneath him, biting the insides of his cheeks as he rocks backward on Shiro’s fingers. It’s hot and slick and _wet_ and all Keith wants to do is melt. His mind is a tangle of _shiroshiroshiro_ and _don’tcomedon’tcome—_ it repeats like a mantra, over and over and Keith doesn’t even realize that his legs, folded calf-to-thigh and snug against Shiro’s sides, are tingling with sleep. “ _Shiro—“_

Shiro hums in question, twisting his wrist, testing the odd angle. Keith shivers against him, sighing in that blessed-out, dreamy way that tugs at Shiro’s heart. He tilts his head, nuzzling against Keith’s temple as he curls his fingers inward and gets rewarded with a stutter of Keith’s hips against his stomach and a moan in his ear that immediately goes to his dick. Shiro groans, extracting his hand in favor of gripping Keith’s hips with both his hands as he thrusts upward, and it surprises neither of them, the way a groan rips from Keith’s throat, the small hiss of _“oh, fuck,”_ following suit.

“Too close,” Keith whispers. He tries to back away, steadying his arms to keep upright. Later, Keith will deny the whimper that escapes his lips as he looks down at Shiro; but now, in the moment, it’s all he can do. Shiro looks too close to something unearthly with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, his bottom lip the tiniest bit swollen with how much he trapped it between his teeth. Keith tilts his head, his lips twitching upward in a smile; his hands are shaky as he settles them against Shiro’s chest, and suddenly it’s all too real: the rapid _thudthudthud_ of Shiro’s heart against his palms, the heat from Shiro’s skin that seeps into his fingertips, the sincerity in Shiro’s eyes as he looks at Keith.

It’s all too real. Keith can feel a lump form in his throat; it feels as though raw emotion is seeping from his pores and it overwhelms him to the point where all he can do is stare, moonstruck, at Shiro and graze his fingertips against the other’s collarbone.

“Keith?” Shiro murmurs, brows knitted together in worry. Slowly, he raises a hand and rests his palm against Keith’s cheek. “Keith? Are you alr—?”

“I love you,” Keith says, oblivious to Shiro’s worried expression. A wave of self-consciousness washes over him as he lowers his gaze only to force himself to look at Shiro once more—but it’s still too much, Shiro’s unwavering gaze and his wide eyes. Keith narrows his eyes, embarrassed, and curls himself against Shiro, nudging against his jaw to hide against his neck.

“I—huh?”

“You heard me,” comes Keith’s reply against Shiro’s neck.

Shiro hums, painfully aware of the flush that burns his face. “No, I don’t think I did. You’ll—ah—have to repeat yourself, Keith.”

“You _heard_ me.”

“What was that? I think you’re mumbling, K—ouch!” Shiro jerks away, laughter escaping his lips at the flash of mischief he saw in Keith’s eyes. He clamps his lips together as Keith kisses and licks at the bite on Shiro’s neck, and soon Keith’s brushing his lips against Shiro’s jaw, bumping his forehead against Shiro’s temple.

“I love you,” he repeats.

Shiro hums again, his smile an effortless motion—and before Keith can get the words out of his mouth, he flips them over, a bark of laughter escaping his lips at the yelp that escapes Keith’s.

“Sh-Shiro—“

He buries his face against Keith’s neck, fingers tickling at his sides until he hears giggles sound from above. The smile on Shiro’s face seems to grow wider as he scoots closer, sliding a hand to rest against Keith’s heartbeat as the other wraps his legs around Shiro’s waist. He rolls his eyes as Keith digs his heels into his lower back, urging him forward, but nonetheless he complies. Shiro straightens, runs a hand down the length of Keith’s body just to see him shiver; he gives an innocent smile at the scowl he receives.

“Keith,” Shiro mutters, eyes dancing up and down the other’s body. He adjusts his stance, presses against Keith only to bite back a groan at the way Keith rolls his hips as if asking for more. With steady breathes, he pushes forward, biting his lip as the heat and tightness engulfs the head of his dick. Shiro pauses, slumping forward to nuzzle at the column of Keith’s exposed throat. _“Keith,”_ he chokes out, breathless, his mind a blur of _moremoremore_ and _ilovehimilovehimilovehim._

“Shhhh—aah—“

Shiro smiles against Keith’s neck, a soundless laugh in his throat as he rolls his hips, shifting a couple more inches. He leaves open-mouthed kisses along the other’s neck and collarbone, and Shiro doesn’t even mind the bite of fingernails digging into his shoulders. “Keith.”

“Shi—Shiro, _Shiro—“_ Keith gasps as he fights for coherent thought. All he can think of is the heat, the taunt coil in his stomach that’s already becoming too much, the murmur of his name from Shiro’s voice, the way the other is peppering kisses along his skin and Keith feels light-headed, blames it on the heat and the raw emotion settled in his throat. _“Moremoveloveyoushirolovedyouforsolong—“_

“I love you,” Shiro’s saying, and he’s breathless as he says it—it’s too real and raw and he’s weak to Keith, always has been, ever since they met at the Garrison, and the spaces in between, ever since Keith rested a hand on his shoulder, warm and familiar, and told Shiro, _“it’s good to have you back”_ with such seriousness accompanied by honest eyes that it seemed unreal.

There’s a particular tightness in his chest and a burning in his eyes that he faintly registers as tears. As he seats himself to the hilt inside Keith, he wonders where he’d be without this hot-headed, stubborn guy beneath him.

“Shiro— _Shiro_ ,” Keith says, over and over, curling his fingers and waving him closer. Shiro leans into Keith, rolling his hips as breathless laughter fills his ears; he hums, pressing their chests together as Keith snakes his arms around Shiro’s neck.

“Keith,” Shiro says, planting a kiss against Keith’s jaw. He shifts to his elbows, a shaky breath escaping his lips when Keith shifts beneath him, and soon the breath is replaced with a laugh. “I love you, Keith.”

It’s Keith’s turn to give a shaky breath, an equally shaky laugh. Lazily, he lowers his arms, trailing his hands along Shiro’s shoulder in favor of cupping his face in his hands. Keith stares for a moment, basking in the heat he feels in his hands, in the pink that dusts Shiro’s face—and he giggles, giddy and easy, his smile widening at the way Shiro’s own smile unfolds like dawn.

“I’ve loved you from the beginning,” Keith tells him, ignoring the heat blooming on his face in favor of grazing his thumbs against Shiro’s cheeks.

Shiro hums, tilts his head as he shifts his hips, pressing inward, just to hear the exhale of Keith’s breath. “H—How’d you learn to be so cheesy, Keith?”

Keith’s shoulders shake with laughter, and he leans forward, rubs his forehead against Shiro’s as he rolls his hips enough to get a sigh out of the other. The tautness in his lower stomach only intensifies as Shiro moves, little rolls of his hips to pulling out halfway only to return slowly, almost tauntingly. “You—could say… I’ve been spending too much time with you, S-Shiro—“ he grits out. Keith has to fight back a smile as he watches Shiro’s eyes widen, as Shiro throws his head back and laughs—and laughs, and laughs.

Shiro’s swallowing down his laughter after a moment, his lips still twitching as he leans forward, brushing his lips against Keith’s. “From the beginning, huh?”

Keith nods, closes his eyes as he returns the feather-like kiss. “There’s no other way to describe it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Every kudos and comment and view means so much to me! Thank you so much!


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